


I'll Meet You At The Cemetery Gates

by flamboyo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (stress on attempt), Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Banter, Cemetery, Feminine Harry, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Harry Has Long Hair, Louis is so grumpy, M/M, Minor Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, OT5, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Referenced minor characters death in the past, Strangers to Lovers, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, more about that in the notes! it's nothing serious, talks about death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamboyo/pseuds/flamboyo
Summary: If Louis can’t keep kids out ofhiscemetery the night of Halloween, then it’s only fair for him and Zayn to prank them and scare them to death. Things don’t go as planned.*Or, Zayn works at the cemetery only because he likes to look at statues, Niall lives in a society, Liam is silly tipsy, Harry is a witch (nota wizard), and Louis just wants them to have some respect for the deceased.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 33
Kudos: 107
Collections: Larrie Writers GC Challenge 1: Autumn/Halloween/Horror





	I'll Meet You At The Cemetery Gates

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii! Hope to find you all well! This work was kind of a challenge for me, or maybe even a kind of exercise to put together: I've never written anything Halloween related, so when the gc proposed it I was very intrigued about it. On that, don't forget to check out the other works within this collection!  
> ***Regard the tag about the character death: in this fic is referenced here and there that Louis and the other ones have lost someone in the past. It's never specified who these people are, especially on Louis' side, and since this is a work of fiction you can decide whatever you want about it. It won't make any difference.
> 
> All of this being said, I'll leave you to this! Enjoy the reading!

Louis has been working in the Garden of Rest cemetery for three months the first time he heard of the Halloween tradition that goes on there. 

"Kids try to do what?" he had gritted out, outraged. Cemeteries are sacred places. The dead should be granted at least the rest they deserve. 

Paul had sighed. "They're just kids," he had tried to explain. "They think this place is spooky, haunted. Something like that, you know? So they want to sneak in and tell ghost stories, or as a test of courage, I don't know what to tell you." 

"That's so disrespectful," Louis had continued, as angry as before. Nowadays he's less angry about it, more grown-up and perceptive about that kind of behaviour, but back then his pain was too fresh to bear the thought of adolescents disturbing those who were resting. 

"Not everyone has the same relationship with their dead as you do, Louis," Paul had smiled. He understood where Louis came from, with those accusations. "I was just asking you if you wanted to do the night shift on that night because I'll be busy with me kids. Tom can't do it, he's too old and it's too intense of a shift for him. Kids come and go, they try to climb over the gates, sometimes they try to deface gravestones… It’s a lot. Alberto-" 

"I'll do it," Louis cut him off, set. "I'll keep all the kids outside. No one will disturb us, that night."

"You're a good kid, Louis." Paul had nodded, satisfied.

Louis liked Paul a lot, still do, even if they barely see each other with the new shift hours. He's a big, burly man, body built like a fridge, but with an unmistakable soft face on top of that. There's such a father aura about him, and Louis always loved that. 

"I didn't even tell you about the best bit," he had grinned, after a second. 

"Which is?" for Louis, be sure that his cemetery kept on being a peaceful place was more than enough. 

"You get a bonus. Hundred fifty quid for the night. I told ya, it's a weary night to be working here. No one wants to pull it off." 

"Oh." Louis used to live in a studio apartment where he couldn't shower for more than five minutes straight without the fear of the water infiltrating in the apartment below. One hundred fifty pounds for a singular night felt like a treat. "Sure, I'll do it. Don't worry about anything." 

⚰

Two years later, Louis still works at the cemetery. He likes it more and more every month he spends here, though, and thinks less and less about moving to London and working as a teacher as he had always imagined himself to do. 

Tonight it'll be his third Halloween night spent in here instead of drinking in some dodgy bar with smears of red lipstick on his neck, and one of the differences years have made is that this time around, he can't wait.

He changed a bit, in these two years, and finally gained a colleague of his own age. 

Zayn is… Well.

Is it sad, on Louis' behalf, to declare his colleague of few months as his best friend? Even if it is, Louis doesn't care: Zayn is smart, quick-witted and loves the same comics Louis does. They don't have the same taste in horror movies and football clubs, but they got past that one night when they had the night shift together and Louis was feeling particularly bitter about life. They ended up talking until sunset, and became inseparable ever since.

Zayn was such a weird lad, too, and Louis always appreciated that kind of person: in the first weeks he had worked here, Louis had caught him observing the marble statues of the weeping angels too many times to count. When his curiosity couldn't take it anymore, he had asked about it and discovered Zayn was a sculptor, and weeping angels were most of his income. He didn't like them, not enough to make them in his free time or out of inspiration, but they paid his rent too well for him to complain. So, during his shifts, he always made sure to get a good look at them, to try to replicate some good-selling poses.

It still didn't explain the melancholy gaze he gets in his eyes when Louis is not around, but he guesses their friendship may be still too fresh for that yet.

“Have I told you about the night of Halloween?”

“Aren’t you working during that?” Zayn sounds bored, half looking outside their office and half painting his nails black. Louis swears he purposely does a shitty job with it, to look more grungy and artistic. The infuriating part is how well it works.

“So I haven’t.” He plops on the chair next to him, grinning from ear to ear. “Perfect, listen to me.”

Louis’ plan is simple. Some remote-controlled lights, some speakers, maybe a remote-controlled car if they are feeling fancy enough.

Zayn listens to him carefully, even stopping pretending he’s monitoring the small plot outside their windows once Louis gets to the best part of his plan.

Once Louis is done, Zayn weighs it in. “That sounds… Illegal.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “And barging uninvited in a cemetery isn’t? Come on. We’ll have so much fun,” he promises, still grinning. He started thinking about this in late _August._ Cut him some slack, he’s _excited._

“Is this like, a revenge kind of thing?”

“Revenge, what? No! They come here looking for spooky, and we’re gonna give them spooky, for once.”

“Mmmh,” Zayn murmurs, scratching his beard. He has already decided but he’s playing mysterious, Louis is _certain_ of it. “One hundred and fifty quid you said?

“Yeah.” Louis raises his eyebrows. “Are you in?”

 _Finally_ Zayn grins back, pure mischief flickering in his eyes. “Of course I am.”

⚰

Everything is set. They’re ready to play.

The night is brisk and windy, the stars shining bright above them. A thin slice of waning moon is smiling at them, silently thanking them for what they’re about to do. Louis is certain of that.

They have purposely dimmed the lights inside the cemetery to give an eerie atmosphere to the scene. Louis will never understand where the fear of the dead comes from: for him, this now only looks like a poor-lighten graveyard, but for the two groups they’ve already cast out, it looked _‘creepy as fuck, mate’._

In Louis’ experience, the fun core of the night comes around from two to four in the morning, and in fact who came to disturb them until now has been pre-adolescents. He and Zayn had looked at them, through the security cameras, and decided those children weren’t worthy of all the commitment they had spent installing their props during the evening.

They only had to come out of the shadows bearing a grave voice, asking _‘what are you doing here?’_ for them to scatter around in a chorus of screams and yells. It was still funny, though, they had to admit that as they were laughing and watching them running away. 

Zayn got an idea of how things were going to be for the rest of the night, and Louis has never seen him that animated, anticipating the fun of it. Okay, that’s a lie. Louis sees him _animated_ all the time, when they discuss their nerd interests or when he shows Louis his latest creations, but he’s not usually this _excited._ Louis likes the look of trouble that there is in his eyes, and once again he’s grateful to finally have a colleague of his age, one that accepted to do this on Halloween.

They’re not allowed to drink during service, so they’ve stocked up the minifridge in the office with soft drinks, cheering and waiting by the cameras.

The night goes on as busy as anticipated: the worst moment is when they have two separate groups of friends trying to break in from different entrances, obliging them to get separated to chase them out.

One group was made once again by literally kids, and since Louis and Zayn had no intention of paying their therapists for the rest of their lives they just shut them out; the guys in the second group were so drunk they could barely stand, let alone climb over the gates: once again, not something worthy of calling an ambulance, so Louis and Zayn just approached them with their flashlights to talk them out of it.

Thankfully, those guys were so drunk they got convinced they were in the presence of two ghosts, and that was enough for making them run for their lives, screaming and falling over. Louis and Zayn had looked at them, still from their side of the gates, laughing so much they were holding onto each other.

Louis _loves_ drunk people.

He loves a little less groups of people clearly armed with tools that could deface _his_ beloved tombstones, though.

When this new set of guys arrived, he almost jumped out of his chair: he wanted them as far as his dead as possible. They weren’t dressed up as anything, and that was the first clue: they weren’t having fun, they were just using Halloween as an excuse to make some trouble. A couple of them were wielding crowbars in an obvious way, almost as if they never had someone trying to stop them before.

Zayn consciously decided to go out to them before he could decipher the signs of their clothes: he preferred to not know if they were part of some alt-right group, just to not get into a fistfight at 3 am while on service. Louis had to run behind him to keep up with him, silently sharing his same view on the matter.

Unsurprisingly, it took a long time to convince them to get lost, and in the end only threatening them with calling the police worked.

After that, Louis felt their energy flatten a bit: they were pretty tired, by this point, and still waiting to welcome someone to have fun with.

When it’s almost four, new figures emerge from the shadows. Louis and Zayn sit up straighter, looking closely into the cameras: whoever they are, they’re walking at erratic different speeds, which probably means they’re drunk.

Louis deflates a bit into his chair: he doesn't want to scare a drunk person and risk giving them heart failure. When the intruders get under the streetlamps outside the gates, though, he’s pleased to see two people walking fine, and accompanying one who is a bit rickety. 

“We have some new candidates,” he muses, placing his can back on the table and looking at them closely: they’re too far and he can’t see their costumes yet, only dark shadows. One of them is wearing a pointy hat, though, so maybe they have a wizard on their hands.

“Mmmh,” Zayn murmurs. “Dude on the left can barely stand on his feet, though.”

Louis turns to him: he’s evaluating the situation.

“Should we send them home, then?”

Zayn grins. “I kinda want to see him trying to climb over the gates.”

Louis starts laughing immediately. “You're so evil,” he says, amidst his laughter. “Deal, now I’m curious, too.”

They keep laughing and making fun of this stranger’s attempts at brushing his friends’ hands off him and getting closer to the gates, still rocking on his feet. Then, they watch him as he grabs the bars with his hands, and, as easily as if that’s something he does every day, he props his feet onto the decorations and climbs up.

Louis and Zayn stop laughing.

“What the _fuck,”_ Louis blurts, so impressed he forgets to feel annoyed. The drunk guy lands on the other side, and starts helping his friends. “How did he–” Louis is speechless. In two years here, he never saw someone bypass the gates so effortlessly.

He turns to Zayn but finds him squinting at one of the screens, when he shouts: “Look at that one!” with his index pressed on the little image of one of the two sober guys.

Louis observes him, too, and when he recognizes his costume snorts. “Came as the Joker? Groundbreaking, really.” He has seen too many Joker costumes for someone who hasn’t been at a Halloween party for two years.

Zayn waves him off, incredibly amused. “Leave him alone, he lives in a society. You wouldn't understand.”

Louis looks at the other two, now interested in what he could find. All three of them managed to get inside the cemetery now, thanks to the help of their drunk friend. Their drunk friend, who looks way too buffed to be a real human, his muscles too defined to be made of flesh. Louis observes the little figures, trying to make the images click.

“Isn't the drunk one…”

They both study him, getting closer to the screen.

The drunk one is clearly dressed up as batman. They start howling with laughter.

“Did they–” Louis half shouts, feeling hysterical.

Zayn is slumped on his left shoulder, shaking with laughter. “Will he beat him up, at some point? Take him to jail?”

Louis can’t breathe for how much is laughing. Who the _fuck_ in the same group of friends goes dressed as arch enemies. “Do you think they prepared that? Or did they meet and realize just when it was too late?” He can't decide which one is the funnier option.

Meanwhile, the intruders have started walking down the principal lane of the cemetery, helping themselves with the light of their phones.

“Okay, okay,” Zayn sits straight again, trying to regain some credibility. “I'd say we have our victims?”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees instantly. “Can't tell them to go away now.”

“No way.” The dudes on the screen are already jumpy for no reason, pointing their lights in jerky movements at every blow of wind. “They’re my favorites. I love them.”

“I–” Louis laughs again at them jumping for no reason. Probably just the wind again. “Okay, I'm already laughing. Let's go.”

The first trick is almost too easy: the trio heads to the principal lane, still sticking together with only the light of their phones. Once under one of the street lamps, Louis flickers its light, making it tremble like a candle under a gust of wind.

That wasn't easy to prepare, and Louis is more than proud to see the result: once the light comes back up, he sees the three guys glued to each other, shaking. The quality of the image isn’t good enough for them to see their faces clearly, but considering the way they’re holding onto each other, Louis would say they’re already scared. It lasts a moment before they start running, down the principal lane and into the maze that the cemetery is.

"Already?" Louis almost feels disappointed. They’ve just started.

"We'll make them stay, bro, don't worry," Zayn has a laugh in his voice, giddy with anticipation.

The intruders stop once they get to the first crossroad, flicking their phone in every direction, doubtful, wondering which road they want to take. They seem to have a discussion about it, pointing their lights in various directions.

Now that they are still and under the lights, Louis can see them a little better through the screen: the one dressed like a wizard is the one who is the most complicated to visualize since he's dressed head to toe in black. Right now, though, he's unawarely facing one of the cameras, and Louis can see his dark lipstick and a glimpse of playfulness in his big eyes.

For a second, he wonders what he and Zayn are doing. He is disrespecting the dead too, right now. Then, he decides he doesn't care and doesn’t want to spend his time having a crisis, and makes one of the speakers go off. A low fizzle, impossible to be confused with the wind, spreads into the cold air.

“Bro!” Zayn exclaims, a bit thrown off. “Already?”

He’s right, they had made a plan about how to use their props, Louis can’t go and do whatever he wants.

“Sorry lad,” he offers, looking at the screen, where the guys are screaming and jumping around to see the source of the sound they’ve heard. “They were too still, I wanted them to do something.”

The trespassers keep pointing their phones in the direction where Louis and Zayn had hidden the speakers some hours prior, but none of them seems keen on investigating. Or, better: the drunk Batman is trying to walk in that direction, now completely serious, but Joker keeps tugging him back.

“Let them get lost for a bit,” Zayn suggests. “Let’s try to send them down the angels lane, if we can.”

The angels lane is not a singular path, but rather a zone of the cemetery where the majority of the statues and fancy tombs are located. They’ve placed the majority of their props there, relying on how creepy the angel statues look in the dark, especially for someone who is not used to walking there at night. Especially, in this case, for someone as drunk as this Batman lad seems to be, and how shaken his two friends already are.

They watch closely as the trio keep walking slowly down the lanes of the cemetery still jumping every time the wind rises up and the trees shake above them. It’s funny even just to do this, for Louis: cheering with a friend, laughing with him about what the guys on the screen could possibly be thinking or talking about.

Their security system doesn’t have microphones, so Louis and Zayn have no idea what they’re saying, but they’re still having loads of fun by imagining it, or by imagining their own scenarios. It’s obvious that even if Batman is way more than tipsy, his friends care a lot about him: they tug him along when he stops to stare at something, they pick him up off the ground once he trips and falls over, they keep hugging him, apparently laughing with him. Louis hates to admit it, but it’s quite sweet to witness.

“Can we do something,” he grunts. He wants them to regret making this decision, not having a stroll in a sacred place.

“They’re almost there. Patience.” Zayn is smirking, both because of Louis’ impatience and his own excitement.

Even if they didn’t know the planning of the cemetery by heart, they could have seen the exact moment when the trespassers got to the angels’ lane. They freeze still in the middle of the road, and, almost unconsciously, they stick together, back to back.

Louis watches as Wizard points his phone to one of the angels and immediately backs it down: even in the shitty quality of the image Louis could see the gasp he made. _Good._ Why does it feel so natural to not look at a statue of an angel, but it doesn’t to disturb a quiet place? Louis really doesn’t understand these kids.

“Now we’re talking.” Zayn’s hand hovers above the remote control for the speakers. “Let’s start.”

The trio hasn’t moved yet, as if they’re wondering if going down there is really worth it, but in Louis’ opinion they’ve had way too much fun already to not share with the rest of them. He and Zayn had imagined something like this could have happened, and placed a speaker at the beginning of the lane.

Zayn turns that on, and they see the intruders jumping out of their skins, screaming and turning around. Once they have their backs to the angels, Louis shuts the streetlamp above their heads off, forcing them to turn to the angels again, where right now the only source of light is coming from.

They start running. Again.

“Delicate, aren’t they,” Louis laughs, switching from camera to camera to follow them.

Despite the alcohol in his veins Batman has clearly the upper hand on the situation, running a decent speed and leaving his friends behind. Well, Louis doesn’t like that.

He turns off the streetlamp at the end of the lane, making them stop in their tracks; then, he flickers the one at the beginning again.

Batman comes back to his friends, still running, and immediately hugs them. Squeezes them, more like, going by the others’ protests. He starts yelling, too, and Louis makes a mental note to install microphones with the camera, even just to use them one night per year.

“He’s cursing the dead,” Zayn laughs, delighted. “He’s saying he has the power of god _and_ Gotham by his side. They will prevail.”

Batman is still yelling, but his friends have now untangled from his grip. They’re looking in every direction, still making sure they’re not pointing their lights directly on the statues, as if to make up a plan to escape. 

“You gotta be touched in the head to think the dead are interrupting their sleep to bother you,” Louis grumbles.

“Tell that to him. He’s saying _‘I’m the avenger of the night!’_ ,” Zayn starts, trying to mimic his erratic screams. _“I’m vengeance! I’m the night!”_

 _“I’m Batman!”_ Louis joins him, laughing.

_“The darkness made me who I am!”_

Wizard is now trying to calm Batman down, maybe even explaining to him what they’re about to do: Louis observes as he grasps his head with both hands and forces him to look at him.

“Now the other’s saying, _‘calm the fuck down, you’re calling the demons up.’”_

Batman keeps trying to wriggle out of Wizard’s hands. Watching them, Louis feels almost jealous: he hasn’t been that drunk in ages. Even if they’re both freaking out, in their own way, they’re just acting as twenty-something people do.

“Should we use the car now?” Zayn hungrily eyes the car remote, placed between them.

“Joker is not giving me enough satisfaction.” Louis nudges the remote towards his friend. “Make him jump out of his skin.”

Joker, oblivious of what is about to happen, has left his friends behind and is now looking at the statues, his prior fear apparently forgotten. So right now Louis and Zayn have a Wizard trying to calm a drunk Batman down, Batman trying to escape his grip, and a Joker walking down the lane by himself, getting away from his friends.

Zayn turns on the car.

The toy is hidden quite far away, and the intention is not to let them see it, but only to give the impression that someone, or better some _thing,_ is coming near them.

The rumble of the electric motor is impossible to mistake with a natural one, and soon Joker starts taking a step back, then two, until he’s in the middle of the cemetery lane.

The toy car is slowly approaching from his right, but it doesn’t look like he has understood that yet: he keeps turning around, confusion clear even under his heavy make up, screaming at his friends to join him. Batman and Wizard are still talking, though, and that leaves Joker by himself, his nervousness becoming bigger and bigger every time Zayn presses _start_ on the remote.

“He’s shitting himself,” Louis says, amused.

“Would hope he is. Oi, check the cameras at the entrance, I don’t wanna any extra people barging in.”

 _Oh,_ that’s a smart thought (but Zayn is smart all around, so Louis is no surprised): they were having so much fun Louis had forgotten that more people may want to join them. Thankfully the entrance is as dead as it always is, so Louis can focus back on the main screen.

The trio has stuck together again. Batman is slouching over the Wizard, as if all his energy had burnt out, and the sober two are trying very hard to not freak out. Louis looks over Zayn, who’s now steering the toy like he’s a kid on the playground, clearly scaring the shit out of them.

The rumble of the motor and the sound against the leaves probably remind them of footsteps. They keep backing off slowly, like they’re trying to not enrage the spirits or some crap.

“Is Batman crying?” Louis almost yells. He can’t contain himself over this, _what the fuck._

The images aren’t clear enough to say, but he’s back at squeezing his friends, his head hung down.

“I’d say–” Zayn hits a sharp turn. “We give them what they want.”

Louis nods, smirking. “Let’s go, then.”

Sound is the first thing he touches: they’re freaking out over their right, so Louis turns on the speaker on their left, loud. He looks at them jerking their bodies at the sudden vibration, but it doesn’t last: Zayn gets closer to them with the toy, and they freeze, now closer to the statues as they were before, too scared to react.

Should they run towards the footsteps or the indistinct rumble at the end of the dark path? They’re undecided, shaking like leaves.

Louis turns off the lights. All of them.

He’s sure he can hear their screams from his office.

When he turns them back on, he’s greeted with the trespassers still in the same spot as before, but now white as sheets and hugging each other again. Louis can see their hands clasping over each other’s clothes, knuckles white. Once the street lamps enlighten them again, they remain frozen for an entire second, and then, with no words, they start running from where they came from.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Louis mocks them. “They think they can find their way back.”

The cemetery isn’t _that_ big, but it’s night and they're out of their minds with fear. Sure enough, Louis watches them turn right instead of left, averting them from the entry.

“Keep going with that,” Louis tells Zayn, even though there’s no need: he’s having the time of his life driving that. Zayn had told him he wanted to give the toy to one of his cousins, after this, but Louis can’t picture his friend ever separating from it, from now on.

The car is approaching the intruders, lights are flickering over them: they gain speed and try to stick together while running at completely different paces through the pathways.

Louis changes camera, and for a couple of moments can see their faces better: their eyes are wide with fear, their mouths slack, no trace of the playfulness there were just moments before. _Good._ He doesn’t know why they entered, they didn’t give them the time to do anything except running around, but Louis doesn’t care about their motivations. They shouldn’t have.

They hit one of the principal lanes, where Louis managed to modify every lamp post: as they run past the graves, Louis switches off them, one by one, leaving them with the dark behind them, forcing them to fetch the light.

They’re running even faster, now, and for some reason they turn into a narrow little downward on their left. They can’t know it, but they’re getting back in the middle of the cemetery, that way.

They dodge the low branches of some not very tidy trees, as quick as before, and then-

And then, Wizard trips and fall.

By the way he hits the ground, not very gracefully.

Louis remains still for a moment, unsure: Batman had fallen, before, but not when he was high of fear, and the Wizard is not moving at all, now. He watches as his friends continue running down the street, leaving him behind, on the ground.

As scared as he must be, he should stand up and run again, no matter how hurt he is. Still, he remains there, with his back to the camera, his head up like he’s screaming at his friends to wait for him.

Louis is bored and cranky, but he’s not a monster: he stops the lights from flickering, and lowers the speakers. He can’t hear him, but it doesn’t look like he’s joking.

“Fuck,” he blurts out. “Do you think he’s seriously injured?”

Zayn, on his left, has too stopped playing with the toy. There’s a crease between his eyebrows. “I really hope not. Fuck.”

“Where are his friends, come on.” Louis doesn’t like the idea of a stranger sitting there, alone, and his two friends getting lost. He wants the three of them together, so they can fuck off and leave them alone.

Zayn switches over the cameras, and _thankfully_ his friends must have connected the two remaining braincells they have, because they’re now running back to where they left their friend.

Batman is on him in an instant, shaking him and trying to make him stand up. He turns Wizard’s face slightly more to the camera to do that, and Louis can see his pained expression. _Fuck._

“He can’t stand up, _fuck,”_ Zayn is biting his lip, unsure. _“_ We should go see how he’s doing.”

“Maybe Batman can carry him out,” Louis mumbles, annoyed. Stupid intruders, they don’t even know where to put their feet.

“Batman is drunk,” Zayn reminds him. “And they have no idea where they are. Come on,” he sighs, standing up. “Let’s do what we’re paid for and throw them out, yeah?”

Louis lets out a dramatic sigh, grabbing his jacket and torch. Damn Zayn and his diplomatic mind.

⚰

It took them only a couple of minutes to get there, knowing the pathways by heart and running a decent speed in the fear the trio may have moved in the meantime.

They hear them before they turn the corner and see them, their voices loud and apparently not intimidated by spirits anymore.

“Li, I can’t do that, I think I broke–”

“He’s gonna carry you bride style, he can do it–”

“He _can’t,_ he’s gonna fall and hurt both of us–”

“Oi.”

“Sorry Li, I know you're big and strong and all of that, but you can’t even walk straight right now, and– stop laughing, what did I say?”

“Hold up, can you hear the footsteps?”

“I’m too tired for that crap, if the spirits wanna kill us I’m gonna offer myself to them–”

“Shut up! Shut up, oh my god, _I’m not with him, don’t kill me–”_

“Ni, what the– stop yelling!”

“I refuse to think the other two are sober,” Louis comments, baffled. “They really believe it was spirits, _what the fuck.”_

Zayn just laughs. He probably wasn’t expecting all of this, and Louis wasn’t either, but unlike him, he’s having the time of his life.

“Fuck!” one of the voices exclaims. “Did you hear the laughter? They’re coming to get us–”

“Ni, can you stop Liam instead of freaking out? He’s gonna fight the dead at this rate–”

“We’re not spirits,” Louis announces when they turn the corner. “We’re just the guards.”

A lot of things happen at once.

First, loads of screaming.

Then, a dark, enormous figure starts running towards them.

Louis had kind of anticipated that, and just walks towards it and stops it by hitting him on the shoulder. 

“Calm down, Batman. We’re humans.”

Up close, Batman looks awfully young. He opens his mouth in surprise, and it’s clear how intoxicated he still is. He looks at the two of them, blinking too much, frowning like he’s trying to rationalize what he is seeing.

Then, he turns around and runs back to his friends, who are staring at them from the ground, terrified.

Joker stands up. And starts screaming. “What the fuck, what the _fuck–”_

“Ni,” the Wizard pleads. “Calm down, stop yelling for one seco–”

“No, I won’t calm the fuck down, what the–”

“Guys,” Zayn tries. “Can you please–”

“Why are we even here!” Joker yells again, ignoring Zayn. “I was chatting up Amy and now we’re lost in a haunted cemetery, demons up our arses–”

“On that,” Louis interjects. “Can you go away, pl–”

“–and Liam’s blackout drunk and now you broke your bones because _of course you did,_ and–”

The Wizard gasps out loud, offended. “It’s not my fault this place is a mess! The trees are everywhere, how many times did you and Liam fall, too?”

That makes Louis’ blood boil. “Oi!” He calls. It doesn’t stop the two from bickering, so he walks up to get in the middle of them. _“Oi,”_ he repeats, looking down at the Wizard who’s still sitting on the pavement, one ankle titles in an unnatural position, his purple lipstick smeared on his chin and left cheek like he has been biting his lip and touching his face. “This is a public cemetery,” he tells them once their attention is on him. “If the municipality doesn't send us gardeners, we can’t do anything about that. Now, can you get lost?”

Too bad the Wizard seems the only sane person among his group of friends, and he has to be the one unmoving on the ground. He only looks annoyed and in pain, whereas his friends look on the verge of a breakdown.

“I tripped over that, mate,” he points with his head, not turning around. Louis looks over, and sees a thick root poking out the cement. “That’s way beyond gardeners’ fault.”

Louis feels a gush of rage bedewing his body. “And you think it’s mine?” he almost growls. “Do you think I don’t care about this place, that I–”

“Okay,” Zayn interrupts him, voice steady and approaching the group, where Louis is standing between Joker and the Wizard, still sitting on the ground. Louis turns around and sees Batman blinking at them, looking still confused about what is happening. “Now that we introduced ourselves, we all agree that you should get going.”

Now that Joker has stopped yelling, he doesn’t look frightened anymore, only annoyed that his night went like this. Batman is still staring at Louis and Zayn like they could transform into monsters if he closes his eyes. Louis swallows down his outburst and nods at what Zayn said, making a _shoo_ gesture with one hand.

They're next a heavy gravestone with a thick cross carved in. The woman sleeping there was probably catholic. Louis had never met her and never will, and he will never know the significance of her epitaph. He has grown to be at peace with that kind of thing. 

“We can’t,” Joker sneers, like the dumb ones out all of this are the guards and not them. “Do you think he can stand up and walk away?” he says, pointing to the apologetic person on the ground. “Harry broke something, that’s for sure.”

Louis is not sure what happens there, but he flickers his gaze to the Wizard, taking in his ruined lipstick, his pointed hat placed on the ground, and the starry costume he has on. And only one question comes to his mind:

“Your name is Harry and you came as a wizard? Groundbreaking, mate.”

The wiz– _Harry_ opens his mouth, confused. When Louis’ words get registered in his brain, his expression changes to pure indignance.

“I'm a witch, not a wizard,” he grits out. “And I want nothing to do with that mess, thanks.”

Louis eyes him up better: what he thought was a large cape is, in fact, a gown. He even has heeled boots on, which probably didn’t help in the whole escaping-the-demons, jumping-over-roots antics. Now that his big eyes aren’t wide with fear, Louis can also see how incredibly pretty he is, despite the pained expression and purple lipstick stains on his face. _Well._

“That's better,” he just comments.

Louis doesn't know if he should add something, but Joker is already speaking behind him: "Her sister was a witch!" he _shrills_.

"The wicked witch of the East, bro!" Zayn continues, and doubles over, laughing.

Batman (Liam, right?) joins the laughs as well, but he doesn't look like he's aware of what is happening (Louis isn't, either). Zayn and Joker are now grasping each other as if they're the only thing that keeps them standing, and keep howling. 

_What._

“Your friend is the first person who went along with it. He has been trying to do this bit all night,” Harry muses. 

“Zee, you shouldn't fraternize with the enemy,” Louis grunts, bothered. “We have to throw them out, not make friends with them.”

Harry, still on the ground, scowls at him. “How are we the enemy? This place is haunted, you’ve got bigger problems than us in your hands.” 

“Haunted, mate,” Liam repeats, all serious now. 

Louis rolls his eyes, feeling his annoyance building up. “You think the dead are up messing with you? You think you're worth all of that?” He bites back. “That they've interrupted their eternal sleep to what? Chase you out?” 

“Yeah, mate,” Liam says on his right. Louis turns, and his eyes are buggering off his skull, looking terrified. “That's what happened, they–”

“Then why would you disturb them? Why didn’t you get out when you could?” Louis asks again. Liam only gapes at him, like he’s realizing the spirits or the demons or _whatever_ could start playing with them again. "Okay," Louis sighs. This Liam lad is really out of it, it seems. "I don't know why we haven't called the police yet, but I want you out here. Now." 

"Mate," a voice calls him from the ground. Oh yeah, Harry is still sitting there. 

"Louis," Louis grunts. He's not his mate. 

"Louis," Harry replies, this time smiling a bit too sweetly. "I'm still handicapped, here." 

"Sucks to be you, then. I'm sure the police will arrive in a car, so you don't have to worry." 

Zayn and Joker are still laughing on his left: they've moved on to other words Louis can't decipher: maybe they’re talking about outfits or movies or something equally useless, while Louis is standing there, alone, with an intoxicated dude dressed like he spent two of Louis' month rents on his costume, and another one with an obviously injured ankle. This is not funny anymore, he wants them out of here. 

The mention of police seems to shake Joker out of his bubble, and in a second he’s beside him, looking scared once again. “You can't call the police on us!”

“Like hell I can’t, you think that what you did was legal? What do you–”

“Yeah!” Harry looks alerted as well. “You... Liam has a future as an Olympic athlete! You can't do that to him!”

Louis blinks. _What._ He turns to Liam, who is as confused as him about the situation. “Do you really–”

“He drank two cranberry vodkas,” Joker adds, like that would explain something.

“And he's like this.”

“Who else is this bad with alcohol? Only athletes, mate. Wanna see him go for a run?”

“Ni, he’s gonna break everything if he goes for a run now–”

“I'm Louis,” Louis repeats, dumbfounded, while observing how Liam is nodding by himself, pleased to remember that apparently he’s training to become an Olympic athlete. Louis is _so_ tired.

“Yeah, nice to meet ya, ‘m Niall. Please don't call the police?”

Louis closes his eyes for a moment, sighing loudly. He opens them to find Zayn a lot closer to Liam than before, chatting with him. From what Louis can see he’s complimenting his costume, and if he’s flirting with him while the dude is that drunk, Louis is going to call the police on him, too.

“Whatever,” he sighs, tired. “Can you go away, then?” 

“I'm literally handicapped,” Harry repeats, _as if Louis had forgotten, Christ–_

“Cheer up buttercup, you're surrounded by _literally_ dead people. Come on, shoo.”

“I can carry you to the car,” an unexpected low voice joins them. 

Louis turns around, and oh, that was Liam, still close to Zayn.

“Thank you, Liam,” Louis says. See? He has some manners left.

“We don't have a car, Liam,” Niall reminds them, more annoyed than before.

“Were you gonna take the bus?" Louis asks, exasperated, in lieu of saying _you're stupid as hell._ It's past four in the morning, there won't be any busses for hours, not in this part of town.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, suddenly, and Louis almost shrieks before turning around and seeing that it’s just Zayn. Damn him and his quiet steps.

“Maybe we could... Uh.” He’s tugging him, asking to have a private conversation. Louis follows him down the path. “Give ya some ice, before sending you away,” he ends, yelling from afar.

A chorus of voices raise, but Louis is more interested in knowing what his friend has in mind.

“Zayn, what the–”

“He's cute.”

Louis waits for him to add something. He doesn’t. “He...?” he turns to Liam, who is now leaning over Niall’s shoulder to not fall face-first onto the pavement. “He's piss drunk.”

Zayn shrugs. “He likes batman.”

Louis scoffs. “And so what, who doesn’t?”

“Nah bro, he likes it for real.” It continues to not sound like a solid argument, in Louis’ mind. “His costume is original and he has read the comics and–”

“And so does every other gay nerd I've ever met–”

Zayn frowns. “Where even are these gay nerds you always talk about?”

“What, me?” 

“I'm not dicking you, bro.”

“Thanks, Zee. Your work ethic is phenomenal,” Louis sighs.

He’s drained, and out here is freezing. They’ve been bickering with a group of strangers for much longer than he was expecting, and now he’s cold and cranky. There’s no way to send them home without calling an ambulance or driving them with Louis’ car, and he doesn’t want any of that. Giving them some ice and hoping they’ll fuck off on their own, in the end, is the easier option.

He also has to admit, Liam _is_ cute. In a way that inspires Louis to take a nap on him, more than engaging in any aerobic activities, but to each their own.

“Okay.”

Zayn smirks. _Why._ “Yeah, figured. Witch is cute as well, yeah?”

Louis gasps a couple of times before he can spit out: “What? No, shut up, I don’t–”

Zayn laughs. “Yeah, sure mate. Let's escort them, okay?” He walks back to them without waiting for Louis.

“Harry?” he calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can you stand up, at least? We can get ya some ice to put there. No police involved.”

Niall cheers, he wholeheartedly, honestly cheers, and Louis slaps him on an arm to remind him they’re still on sacred ground. Liam is happy as well, probably less intoxicated than before, but Harry still can't move.

Before Louis gets pissed again, Liam sweeps him off his feet, carrying him bride-style, not breaking any sweat.

“Told ya I could carry you,” he comments, pleased with himself. He’s a bit shaky, but Niall is quick to get near him and guide him.

“Thank you Liammm,” Harry singsongs, cheerful, pinching his cheeks.

Now that Louis is not looking down on him, he has to admit he is way more than cute, he’s straight-up pretty. He’s as pretty as Louis is on duty, though, so he gets his mind out of the gutter and shows them the way to their office. He wants them out of here as soon as possible.

⚰

“So.” 

They're back at the office.

Harry is sitting in their comfy chair with three cans of refrigerated sprite around his left ankle (they couldn't find any ice), Liam is sitting on the ground (he insisted) steadily drinking the water bottle Zayn gave him, and Niall is currently switching through the security cameras, not even bothering with any degree of awkwardness. When he sees everything is normal around the graveyard, he leaves the console with the wrong camera switched on and goes sitting near Zayn.

They’re all a bit tired, Louis can see it in their dimmed energy. He’s trying to maintain the attitude of the angry one, but it’s difficult when it’s near five am and you’ve had a night as intense as they did. 

Louis observes how the guys are chilling in the office as they belong there, and as much as he wants to relax, too, he can’t get over how morally wrong what they did was. They look a bit dumb to him, especially now that their make up is melting off, revealing their true features.

They’re harmless, he knows that, so he knows he should just get off his high horse and join whatever conversation they’re having, but he keeps observing the scene in front of him instead.

Zayn, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. Or so it seems: Louis looks at how he’s laughing with Niall, showing him something on his phone. He and Liam were talking about nerd stuff just a minute ago, and Louis still didn’t join, despite loving the topic of finding vintage comics copies; now, Liam keeps drinking his water, nodding to himself, and Harry keeps looking between them and Louis, constrained as he is to remain still.

Louis clears his throat.

No one turns to spare some attention to him. Okay. 

“Lads. People,” he tries again. Harry looks at him. _Finally._ “You should text or call someone to give ya a lift. So you can–” _fuck off somewhere else._ “Get out of here.” _Eh, same thing._

“Texted Bressie,” Niall tips off. “He's not replying though, that shithead.”

Harry leans forward, so suddenly that Louis, out of instinct, gets up from his chair to prevent him from falling on his face again.

“Shit, lad, _careful–”_

“You still have his number?” Harry shrieks, not sparing a glance at Louis.

“Yeah? I told ya, he–”

“You texted _Bressie_ and said nothing to me?”

“Oi, please.” Louis sits back. He doesn't want any extra gossip here. “Can you text someone else, then?”

Niall shrugs, unbothered. “They're all drunk and partying, mate.”

Louis bites his tongue. “Too bad you're not with them, eh? Christ. Why did you even come here? With no way to go back?” So much for biting his tongue, but he doesn’t understand these guys in front of him.

They’re not violent or weird, they didn’t come here to try to summon the devil; they dealt going to the cemetery as if they were having a stroll in the park on a sunny spring afternoon.

“We needed to take Li’s mind off things,” Harry muses, softly, like he’s confessing a secret.

Liam looks like he’s traveling through dimension. Louis is sure that giving him a third cranberry vodka and then making him sit on a sofa would have sorted a similar effect.

Hearing his name, Liam’s face scrunches up. “I don’t wanna talk about that,” he pleads.

Louis scowls. “Yeah, and we’re not.”

He wants a solution for this, not to chat even more, but when he asks again Harry tells him he had texted all his friends and no one has replied yet, so the only thing they can do is sit down and wait.

Harry’s ankle is not swelling down yet, but he can move his foot a bit, so they ruled out a fracture.

Bored, Louis looks at him while he takes a mirror out of a concealed pocket of his gown, and then, out of the same pocket, he takes out some kleenex and lipstick.

Louis shouldn't stare, but it’s almost mesmerizing to see him cleaning his chin from the lipstick stains he had there, and then reapplying it on his lips with care. It takes him only a couple of swipes, clearly a habitual gesture for him, but he keeps building it up and smiling at his reflection, clearly pleased with what he sees.

He’s almost too pretty to look at, even under the unflattering lights of the office, even with his eye makeup ruined and a swollen foot propped up on a chair. He had a tight bun under his witch hat that is now almost destroyed, letting stray locks of hair framing his face.

He turns and catches Louis staring, but he only offers him a big, purple smile, putting his lipstick back in his pocket, never looking away from him.

So, Harry is unbelievably beautiful, Louis had accepted that, but now he’s untidying his bun, and the hair he was hiding in there is long and clearly well looked after, and Louis starts thinking he should ask something.

And it’s not something about his long hair or his lipstick, it’s more about the gown and how he's a witch and not a wizard.

Louis hates to be wrong, but he hates to feel and make others feel uncomfortable even more, so: "Pronouns?" is the next thing to leave his mouth.

Harry blinks, surprised, then the biggest smile Louis has seen on his face yet blooms.

"He/him," he _beams_.

"Cheers." Louis clears his throat. "And, same."

"Same."

"Same."

"Nnngh."

Niall turns to Liam, squeezing his shoulder, and Liam just shrugs. "Yeah, same for him too," Niall concludes.

"What a group of lads are we," Louis almost bites out.

"Awww," Harry drags out, massaging his scalp. Louis should stop looking at him and at how his loose curls are catching the light, or wondering if his lipstick is one of the not-smudging kinds or how it would be to caress his hair. “Are we lads now? Mates?"

"Hell no. You still barged into my cemetery." 

“And you're still not calling the police on us,” Niall is quick to remind him.

“And you gave me ice.”

“And you're more worried about Liam than us.” Well, _yeah,_ he babied Liam a bit, but the dude is drunk and still convinced he has demons hunting him. It’s the least he could do. “I'd say we're mates.” 

Niall is… Niall is so chill it’s almost infuriating.

He’s laughing with _his_ friend, looking comfortable like there’s nothing unusual about what he is doing, trying to rope him in the joke. Louis doesn’t understand his energy. He doesn’t know if he should give in and chill as well, or get even crankier about a dude who not only broke in a cemetery, but he’s also laughing about it now.

He goes for the second route. “I don’t become friends with people like you,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

“What, Olympic athletes?” Niall laughs again.

Zayn is looking at him, wary, knowing what is about to happen. “Tommo–” he tries to tame him, but Louis can’t believe they still haven’t understood why he is so irritated.

“People who disturb the dead?” he suggests.

Harry rolls his eyes. “We weren't disturbing the dead, come on–”

“No? And what was that?”

“Have you ever been young?” Niall is looking at him like he’s the one out of touch with reality. “Bloody hell, it was just a bit of fun.”

Harry tries to push his seat to get closer to Louis, but he fails his attempt, landing him at the centre of the room. “Yeah, Liam had to forget about someone–”

“Don't wanna talk about him,” Liam repeats, voice clearer this time.

Zayn raises his head, obvious and unbothered, and smirks, satisfied with the new revelation.

“Yeah, he just… drank too much, we wanted to take his mind off a little. You know? Have you ever been young?” Niall asks again, less harsh than before. 

“Never needed any of this, though,” Louis says, gesturing at them and the cemetery outside the windows.

Niall ponders the accusation.

“How’s any of this disturbing the dead, by the way?” Harry asks, in the meantime. He sounds genuinely curious about what Louis means, but his words still rub Louis in the wrong way. “They don’t care about any of this, they… They’re dead. Noise is not gonna… disturb them.”

Louis shakes his head, frustrated. “No, it’s still disrespectful, because they’re here to rest. They deserve at least this. They deserve their dignity.”

Niall snorts. “Oh, come on–”

“I think that if you knew as many people as I do that are now resting here, you would have thought it better before desecrating this place,” Louis cuts him off, voice even, not wanting to give more than necessary away.

The trio widens his eyes at that.

“I–” Harry stops.

_Good._

Silence stretches out for a couple of long seconds.

“I, uh, I have a lot of relatives here, too,” Niall says, tentative, now fiddling with his neon fake tie.

“Yeah, I do too,” Liam mumbles around his water bottle.

“Well, then.” Louis is still angry. “Then we have a different perspective on what is proper to do and what isn't.”

Niall shrugs and looks away, not interested in keeping this argument up. Liam keeps humming around his bottle, bopping along with some song that only he can hear. Zayn has mentally checked out this conversation hours ago.

In all of this, Harry is trying to push his chair closer to Louis’ one with his intact foot; when Louis realizes his intent, he hooks an ankle under Harry’s chair and gets him closer.

“So…” Harry starts, smiling. “What do you believe in?”

Louis blinks. “What?”

“I mean, do you think the soul remains attached to the bones? That’s why the dead can hear us? Or attached to the place where the person is buried? Do you think the body and the soul are intrinsically connected?”

“Intrinsically, Haz?” Niall snorts from behind him. “It’s five in the morning, for Christ’s sake.”

Louis stares at him. “No, I don’t…” he tries, when he regains his voice. “I don’t think they’re forced to remain forever where they were buried, nor to keep their consciousness–”

Harry’s eyes sparkle. “So you think they still have their consciousness? That they’ll have it forever?”

“I… Yes? I think they’re just resting. That maybe a piece of their soul is still here, but not… Not forced to stay in a singular place. But all of this is more about the living’s concept of respect?” The two topics are getting confused in his mind. “The way we respect them it’s more about us and how we think about them, than how they are. I… I don’t think they remain forever attached to their bones, because then… when there’s nothing left of them, where will they go?” His voice has gotten lower and lower toward the end, a deep sadness trying to sneak in and settle inside himself. He won’t let it win, not now.

Harry smiles again. “I think that when they go, they join back the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,” he says, simply.

Louis blinks. There’s a reference, there, that he’s not catching. Out of his vision, Niall is rolling his eyes, Liam is yawning and Zayn is scrolling on his phone.

“So… Do you think everything is… Connected?” He asks, tentatively. Harry nods, his eyes glimmering with joy. “That we all go back to the same source?”

Harry nods, enthusiastic. “Sure, why not? I find it poetic.”

“Yeah? And I find it simplistic,” Louis says, enjoying the sight of Harry gasping. “So, what? Does everything come from the same soul? Won’t that make us too similar, in the end? Are both good and evil from the same ancient soul, too?”

“Of course they are, it’s the energy of the universe–”

“And what makes us different? What makes you want to break into a cemetery, and makes me want to protect it? It’s all free will?”

“I wouldn’t go back to Scholasticism, now–”

“Why not, you _monist?”_

Harry stares at him for an instant, his eyes wide, and then, out of nowhere, he bursts into a loud laugh. He leans back on his chair, holding his hands up to his face, and _howls._

Louis stares at him, smiling despite himself, and starts laughing as well.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep that it’s making them frenzied, but Louis can’t stop laughing, now, and neither can Harry. Somewhere behind him, Niall is observing the scene, confused, but Louis can’t pay attention to him now, and gets even closer to Harry, making their chairs knock.

When Harry finally calms down his eye makeup is everywhere like he has been crying, and his lipstick is ruined again. Louis really, really wants to know if that’s one of the not-smudging kinds.

“I, uh,” Harry laughs again. “I never got called a monist with such an irreverent tone.” He pats his cheeks and dries away the mascara from his eyes.

Louis smiles, still coming down from their outburst. “And I never discussed philosophy with a witch. Loads of first times, darling.”

Harry smirks, still amused, but now with a hint of smugness in his eyes.

It lasts only the time for him to take a breath and get again into the topic of life after death, of beliefs and faiths. Next to them, Zayn, Niall and Liam have started talking again about movies, calling some of Louis’ favorites as well, but he wouldn’t leave this conversation he is having for anything in the world.

The two conversations merge at some point, and Louis doesn’t know how much time passes then, once he finally chills out enough to talk with these weirdos, but when the light of the sunrise starts to pour inside the office, he knows it’s been hours and it’s now late, so late it became early.

When he asks again, this time not as harsh as before, he obtains the same answer: Niall and Harry’s friends have either not replied, or are too hungover to come and pick them up. It makes Louis smile, to say it, convinced the lack of sleep is to blame too, but when he offers to give them a ride back home, they all agree instantly.

What a night it was. They leave the office before Paul from the morning shift can see them, and they all pile up in Louis’ car, ready to go home.

⚰

Zayn is the first to go, and Liam is a close second. Zayn didn’t ask for Liam’s number in the end, too unsure about the ethical side of things, but they discovered they frequented the same art supplies shop (which almost made Zayn swoon), so they’re sure they’ll meet again one day. Louis rolled his eyes at the whole thing, but then remembered Zayn got Niall’s number, and his friend knows what he’s doing. Louis shouldn’t worry about him.

Louis follows Harry’s directions through the city’s streets, and parks near a cute building where he and Niall live as roommates, with other four strangers.

Louis stops the car and starts with the farewells, feeling a hint of sadness at the idea of never seeing these lads again. He got fond of them, somewhere in the night they just passed together, and maybe even something more than fond about the witch that’s now sitting beside him, but life goes on.

The witch sitting beside him has no intention of getting out of the car, though.

“Ni?” He calls, turning around to look at him. “Ni, my amazing best friend–”

“This sounds like a trap.” Niall, in the reflection of Louis’ rearview mirror, is narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah, because it is one.” Harry is still cheerful, despite being almost eight in the morning. Louis is used to this and still wants to take a nap. “I have a pair of crutches from when I broke my foot, do you remember? They're in my closet. Could you go take them? Pleeease?” He drags out, when Niall remains still.

Niall sighs. He tried washing away his makeup, but now he just has a layer of blotched colors on his skin. “Mmmh. Whatever.”

Louis watches him get out of his car, amused. “Do you fall so frequently you have crutches in your closet?” 

Harry looks at him like he’s stupid. “Of course I don’t have crutches lying around in the house.” Louis blinks. “I just wanted a moment alone with you.”

 _Oh._ “Oh.” 

Harry turns to him, leaning on the door. “Yeah. I wanted to ask, did you and Zayn filmed the whole thing? Should I expect to find my face on Punk'd?”

Air gets sucked out from Louis’ lungs.

“I… umh. Punk’d had stopped airing ages ago.” Not a convincing alibi, he’s afraid.

“So you did,” Harry sighs, crossing his arms. “Okay. Was my fall that disastrous?”

“No, what?” Harry looks genuinely disconsolate by the thought, and Louis wants to go back to minutes ago, when they were roasting some over the top radio host and laughing together. “H, we didn't film anyt–” he stops. Harry had raised his head, and now looks triumphant. Louis should clean up the biggest misunderstanding, first. “Why would we film you, for what? And how? We didn't do anything.” _Shit,_ this doesn’t sound like a great alibi either.

“Ah, sure Lou. As if.” Harry’s arms are still crossed, but at least he looks amused now.

“No, seriously.” Louis unbuckles his seatbelt, to turn better towards Harry. “For what? We saw you after you fell, and–”

“Yeah, and you take us to your office. And what, you think I hadn't noticed that demons didn’t bother us, on our way there?”

“There are no demons here, I’ve already this–”

“Lou, cut the crap. I saw the remotes.”

Louis stops his defense, mouth open mid-sentence. 

“Oh. Well.” There isn’t much to say, now.

Harry looks at him, expectantly. “Yeah?”

“I… I’m sorry.”

“You are?” He looks almost surprised, now.

“I mean, you basically have a broken ankle because of me,” Louis reminds him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not broken, and I fall all the time,” it doesn’t seem the same thing, to Louis, but okay. Harry is smiling, so it must be okay in his eyes. “And I'm sorry, too, to have barged in like that. There were a lot of things I never thought about, before you said them. You gave me a lot of food for thought, you know?” He’s teasing, almost, but Louis is only wondering when Niall will come back.

“Umh, well... Okay? Bye, then?”

Harry smiles even more.

“Can I have your number?”

Louis blinks, sure to not have heard well. “What?”

“Yeah, so we could go on a date?” He’s properly grinning now, his curls catching the morning light. “‘Cos, I quite like you?”

“Are you into boys that terrorize you and break your ankles? Because I’m not up for that,” it’s all Louis can say, frowning.

“Aw, what a pity,” he mocks him, amused. “Nah, I’m into smart, eloquent ones. With interesting ideas, that I could listen to for hours. Even if they’re a bit bitter about their peers having fun and they call me a _monist,_ like that’s an insult.”

Louis doesn’t know if it’s because he is tired, but Harry’s eyes seem to sparkle. It takes him a second to get how serious he is about this.

“Uh,” he still says. “I wasn’t expecting… I mean, yeah. Sure.” He smiles back at him, and can feel his cheeks about to explode for how happy he is.

“Yeah?” Harry asks again, to fill the silence, still smiling while he hands Louis his phone.

“Sure, also Zayn was waiting for Liam to get less drunk so he could ask him this same thing but that didn’t happen, so,” he shrugs, handing the phone back. “It’s good that–”

“Okay, if I ask you to kiss you, will you stop changing subjects?”

Louis surges forward, unable to wait another second. Harry’s lips are waxy, smooth, his hair soft and _everywhere._ Louis pushes them back, gently, while Harry cups his face in his hands, still smiling. He tastes like the too many sprites they’ve had and Louis laughs on his lips, just a little, tired and sleepy and too surprised and happy to concentrate.

They break their kiss, and Harry’s lipstick is once again ruined. Louis finally got his answer about if it was one of the not smudging kinds. They’re both still grinning.

“So…” Harry starts.

“A date.”

“Or two,” he winks.

Louis touches his lips, and is content to find them waxy as well. “Am I purple?”

“Yeah. Looks good on you.”

“I’ve been told I look good with pink undertones, you know?”

Harry’s smile gets softer. “Will you wear one on our date?”

“Will you?” The idea of Harry in normal clothes but still with his lipstick makes his heart sing.

“Of course,” he’s quick to reply.

Louis thinks about it. "It's not really my thing, but I'll see what I can do," he answers honestly. 

"Great," going by Harry's grin, it was the right answer. “So…” Harry moves closer and takes his hand in his. “I’ll see you there?”

“At our date?” Louis asks, leaning forward and kissing Harry again. And again. “Can’t wait.” 

Needless to say, Louis changed his opinion on Halloween and kids barging into his cemetery after that night.

**Author's Note:**

> "The ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night" is from Howl, by Allen Ginsberg. Sorry I keep quoting him, I swear I've read other poets in my life too  
> ********************************  
> Thank you so much for reading this! I had a lot of fun while coming up with a Halloween theme to write about, and building the concept of this fic in general.
> 
> If you wanna say hi or anything else, my [tumblr](https://chrysopon.tumblr.com/) is here, and if you want you can reblog the [tumblr post](https://chrysopon.tumblr.com/post/633253362592350208/ill-meet-you-at-the-cemetry-gates). And here you will find the [atcg tag](https://chrysopon.tumblr.com/tagged/Atcg), where I reblogged various posts that reminded me of the atmosphere of this fic.
> 
> I really hope you've liked this! Let me know what you think, kudos & comments are always super appreciated! Thank you again ♡


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